


I Am Yours, and You Are Mine

by shions_heart



Series: Lionheart [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Smut, inspired by Gin's art (again)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 04:50:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7561051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shions_heart/pseuds/shions_heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroo Tetsurou is a lowly palace guard working for the emperor and his son. When an assassination attempt goes awry, Tetsurou finds himself meeting the crown prince face-to-face for the first time.</p><p>And that's the moment that changes everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am Yours, and You Are Mine

**Author's Note:**

> It's 1am and I have a 10 hour shift tmw, but I really wanted to finish this tonight so I'm going ahead and posting it without reading it over for errors. /)u(\ Hopefully any typos here aren't _too_ terrible.
> 
> Enjoy! /)u(\

He’s not supposed to be here.

These are the private chambers of Kozume-sama, and he’s just a palace guard, not even one of the prince’s personal bodyguards. But he heard the sounds of a struggle, as he passed by on his rounds, so he drew his katana and entered swiftly. Now he stands awkwardly just inside the doorway, to see that Kozume-sama’s bodyguards have already taken care of the would-be assassin. The man lies on the floor in a pool of his own blood, and Kozume-sama is answering the bodyguard’s questions in a low monotone.

No, he didn’t see where the man came from.

Yes, the window was shut when he entered the room earlier.

No, he doesn’t want them to stay in the room.

Yes, he’ll be fine.

The guards begin to clean up the mess, dragging the man’s body out of the room. Tetsurou stares down at the stain of blood on the floor, before lifting his eyes to look at his prince, who is now studying him curiously.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I . . . came to defend you,” Tetsurou says lamely, looking down at the katana he still holds in his hand. He quickly sheathes it at his side, bowing deeply to the smaller man before him. “I apologize. I’ll go.”

He turns toward the door, but stops when he hears a quiet voice behind him.

“Wait.”

Tetsurou turns back, his heart pounding in his throat. Kozume-sama is watching him, large golden eyes studying his face with a clear, perceptive gaze. Tetsurou wishes he’d thought to brush his hair that morning. It’s nearly impossible to tame, but he could’ve made it look better than the wild bed-head state it’s in now.

“You’re Kuroo Tetsurou,” the prince says finally.

Tetsurou starts, eyes widening. “You know my name.” It’s more of a statement than a question, since that’s apparently obvious. Since when did the emperor’s son know the name of a lowly palace guard?

Kozume-sama looks away, stepping over to the table placed near his futon, setting something down on it slowly. Tetsurou feels another jolt of surprise when he sees the bloody knife. _The prince killed the assassin?_ There’s blood still on the young man’s fingers, Tetsurou doesn’t know how he didn’t notice before. He takes a step forward automatically, before he can think better of the movement.

“Are you all right, my prince?” he asks in a low voice.

Kozume-sama looks at the blood, before wiping his hand on the side of his yukata. The crimson liquid smears across the black cloth, blending in fairly well. “I’m fine,” he replies quietly.

Tetsurou glances toward the door. “You told your guards to leave … are you sure that’s wise?”

Kozume-sama had stepped toward the futon, but now he pauses, turning back to look at Tetsurou, his features expressionless. “You’re here,” he points out.

Tetsurou swallows hard. “Well, yes, but I’m not supposed to be. My place is in the courtyard, doing my rounds. I’m not in a position to–”

“Please,” Kozume-sama says, and it’s then that Tetsurou hears it, the slightest tremor in his voice that speaks of fear or anxiety. “Don’t leave.”

Tetsurou’s mind goes blank. He stares, frozen, unthinking, as his prince, one of the only two people in his life he’s forbidden to speak to, to touch, to even look upon for too long, walks toward him and places his forehead against his chest with a soft _thump._

Tetsurou doesn’t know what to do. His hands hover at his sides, uncertain of where to go. Kozume-sama sighs, and Tetsurou can feel his breath, warm against the thin material of his kimono.

“I’ve never killed anyone before,” Kozume-sama says softly. “He would’ve killed me if I hadn’t.”

“You did the right thing, then,” Tetsurou says, his voice seeming distant in his own ears. “You protected yourself.”

“I don’t . . . know why . . .” Kozume-sama falls silent, shaking his head against Tetsurou’s chest.

“My prince,” Tetsurou says, placing his hand very carefully against Kozume-sama’s shoulder. “You should rest. It’s the middle of the night. Things may seem clearer in the morning.”

Kozume-sama takes a step back, looking up into Tetsurou’s face. At the sight of those large golden eyes, Tetsurou’s heart begins to beat even faster. He feels the strange urge to reach up and tuck a strand of hair behind Kozume-sama’s ear, but he knows he could have his hand removed for such an intimate gesture. But there’s something strange about this moment, something hovering in the air between them, and when Kozume-sama reaches for Tetsurou’s wrist, he allows him to take it without resistance.

“Stay with me,” he says softly, running his fingers down to clasp Tetsurou’s fingers.

“Always,” Tetsurou breathes, before he can think better of it.

Kozume-sama’s eyes widen slightly, but then his lips quirk in the tiny semblance of a smile.

Tetsurou’s not supposed to be here, but he finds he doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

 

 

***

 

 

If Nekomata, the Captain of the Palace Guard, could see him now, Tetsurou is sure he'd have a heart attack.

He has a difficult time feeling guilty about that fact, though, when his body is flushed, his heart is pounding rapidly in his chest, and his erection is encased in the wet heat of his prince's mouth.

Kenma's on his knees in front of him, as Tetsurou clutches the edge of the prince's wardrobe so tightly his knuckles have turned white. His other hand is buried in Kenma's hair, as his prince bobs his head, pressing his tongue against Tetsurou's hot skin, as he suctions his cheeks hard around him.

"Ah, fuck," Tetsurou gasps, doing his best to not thrust forward into Kenma's mouth. Despite their current position, Kenma's still his prince, and although he's given Tetsurou permission to call him by his given name and enter his chambers without invitation, Tetsurou's high-regard for him hasn't changed. In fact, he was reluctant to have his prince do this in the first place, but Kenma insisted.

He's definitely not feeling that reluctance now, but he still feels the need to be cautious. He doesn't want to hurt—

"Ah! Kenma!" Tetsurou yelps softly, as Kenma's nails dig into the backs of his thighs.

Slowly, Kenma pulls back. Pre-cum dribbles from his lips, and a string of saliva connects Tetsurou's tip to his mouth until he breaks it with a quick lick of his tongue.

"I barely scratched you," he says, glancing from Tetsurou's thigh to his face.

"It just . . . surprised me, sorry," Tetsurou gasps, struggling to catch his breath.

Kenma hums softly, but he doesn't return to his previous action. Instead, he stands, and Tetsurou's all too aware of the fact that his prince is still fully clothed, and he's completely nude. (Kenma had ordered him to remove his clothes the instant his guards left the room.) He wants to reach out, to pull Kenma's yukata away from his body, reveal that pale skin and revel in it. But he remains where he is, knowing his place.

They've only recently begun these late-night activities. After the assassination attempt, Kenma has continuously sent for Tetsurou, and Tetsurou has lain in bed beside his prince, holding him until he sleeps. In the early days of this, he couldn't help but ache for more, but he knew better than to say anything.

It was Kenma who initiated things first. It started with a kiss and has quickly evolved. Tetsurou's now fucked and been fucked by his prince, and he can't say he isn't enjoying himself. While it's true they have to be discreet, no one else in the palace can know about it for the breach in protocol could cost Tetsurou his career or his life if the emperor so wished it, Tetsurou finds he doesn't care.

If he can have this time with Kenma, he doesn't care what may happen to him later.

"Get on the bed," Kenma says now, his voice quiet yet full of authority.

Tetsurou moves immediately. It's only when he's beside the futon that he thinks to ask, "On my back or my stomach?"

Kenma regards him thoughtfully for a moment. "Back," he decides then.

Tetsurou nods, moving to lie down on his back. Kenma climbs up onto the bed and straddles his thighs, his head tilted to the side. His luminous amber eyes stare down at Tetsurou from behind a curtain of black hair. His gaze is sharp, and as it moves over his body, Tetsurou can't help but feel exposed, and not just because he's naked.

"Do you know what you are?" Kenma asks, his voice whisper-soft.

Tetsurou's confused by the question. "Human? A soldier? A palace guard?"

Kenma huffs, rolling his eyes as he starts to untie the obi around his waist. He pulls it from his body, dropping it to the side, before shrugging out of his yukata. Tetsurou watches, his heart in his throat, as the material slides off Kenma's shoulders, dropping from his arms and around his waist to pool at his knees. He's wearing nothing beneath it, no undergarments at all.

Tetsurou's length twitches in response to the sight, dripping pre-cum onto his stomach, and when Kenma bends over him, bracing his hand against the futon beside his head, his heart stutters before quickening its pace.

"You're mine," Kenma murmurs into his ear, before taking the lobe of it in his teeth. A shiver runs through Tetsurou's body, a moan escaping as Kenma nibbles on his ear.

 _I'm yours,_ his mind agrees hazily. _Always._

His fingers tremble, as he carefully lays them against Kenma's back. His prince doesn't always let him touch, but he doesn't swat his hands away now so Tetsurou presses in, spreading his fingers against the soft skin of Kenma's back, as he pulls him closer. Kenma releases his ear, moving instead to the side of his neck. He starts to bite, hard enough that Tetsurou hisses softly at the sting.

_That's going to leave a mark . . ._

It seems like Kenma means it to, because after he soothes the spot with his tongue, he continues to bite him, traveling down his neck to his chest. Heat throbs through him, pulsating with the beat of his heart. As Kenma moves down Tetsurou's body, he rubs against Tetsurou's aching member. Tetsurou moans again, catching his lip between his teeth to stifle the sound.

" _Kenma_."

Kenma rolls his tongue around his nipple, flicking it gently, as Tetsurou finds it increasingly more difficult to breathe. Each sting from Kenma's teeth sends a shock through him that brings with it a tingle of pleasure. And as Kenma travels lower, his body grows more sensitive, until he's squirming on the futon, fingers gripping Kenma's shoulders.

Kenma leans back, appraising his work with a satisfied smirk. Tetsurou ventures a glance down to see his torso covered in angry red marks. Each one throbs gently, but he doesn't mind. The pain isn't great enough to distract him. Kenma slowly rubs his thumbs against his hips, his gaze calculating.

He licks his lips slowly, almost as though he's contemplating how exactly to devour Tetsurou. His eyes gleam in the low lamp-light, and Tetsurou trembles. He moves his hands to Kenma's thighs, rubbing them slowly.

"What do you want, my prince?" he asks, his voice rough.

Kenma lifts his eyes to his face. "Kenma," he says. "I told you to call me Kenma."

Tetsurou allows a shaky smile. "What do you want, Kenma?" he tries again.

"You."

Tetsurou resists the urge to roll his eyes. "Obviously," he says, huffing a soft laugh. "But you know what I mean."

Kenma nods absently. He reaches for the side table, for the small bottle he brought out earlier. He pours the liquid inside over his fingers, rubbing them together until they're slick. Tetsurou spreads his legs in anticipation, but instead of settling down between them, Kenma stays up on his knees.

He shifts his own legs apart, dropping his hand down between them. Tetsurou watches, his eyes widening, as Kenma begins to rub his entrance. His eyelids lower, and he ducks his head, hiding his face. Tetsurou finds himself torn between wanting to see Kenma's expression and wanting to watch the way he presses two fingers into himself.

A small whimper escapes his lips, and Tetsurou reaches out to touch his arm. "Slow down," he says, the words thick in his mouth. "Don't hurt yourself by rushing."

Kenma lifts his head, eyes flashing despite the glazed look on his face. "I know what I'm doing," he rasps out.

Tetsurou blinks back at him before nodding. "At least let me . . ." He moves his hand, taking hold of Kenma's length and stroking his thumb over the tip. He watches, as Kenma's body shudders, his lips parting as he pants.

He moves his fingers, thrusting them with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Tetsurou starts to move his hand, feeling heat pool low in his stomach, as he feels Kenma hardening in his palm.

"K-Kuro," he gasps.

Tetsurou's chest aches at the sound of his nickname, the name Kenma chose for him, and he leans further forward, capturing Kenma's lips with his. Kenma kisses him back deeply, and Tetsurou feels the vibration of his next moan.

It seems too soon when Kenma's placing his hand on Tetsurou's shoulder and pushing him back against the futon. He draws his fingers out and grabs the bottle once more, this time taking Tetsurou's length to coat it with the slippery liquid. Pleasure tingles down his thighs at the sensation, and then Kenma's moving over him, positioning himself.

"Are you sure you're—"

Before Tetsurou can finish his question, Kenma sinks down onto him. They cry out in unison; Kenma, from the stretch, Tetsurou from the feel of Kenma's tight heat squeezing around him. It's too tight, Tetsurou can tell, and he instinctively grabs Kenma's hips to keep him from moving too quickly. But Kenma doesn't. He pauses, breathing heavily, taking his time to adjust before pushing further down and stopping again.

It's torture. Each time he moves, Tetsurou has to fight the urge to thrust up into Kenma and be done with it.

"You're doing this on purpose," he gasps, once he realizes.

Kenma doesn't reply, simply sets his hands against Tetsurou's chest to steady himself as he continues to press down. His nails dig in once more, leaving scratches behind, but Tetsurou barely feels it this time. He breathes heavily, gripping Kenma's hips tightly, possibly leaving his own bruises, until Kenma finally settles down against him, completely full.

" _Fuck_ , Kenma." Tetsurou's breath hitches in his throat, and he groans, as Kenma shifts, adjusting some more.

He sits still then, his gaze roaming over Tetsurou once more. His hair sticks to the side of his face with sweat, and his skin glistens with an orange glow in the dim light. He's beautiful, and Tetsurou swallows hard.

"Kuro," Kenma murmurs then, reaching to take one of his hands. He laces his fingers through Tetsurou's, gripping tightly.

Without warning, he starts to move. He rocks his hips forward, shoving back down quickly. The friction causes Tetsurou to cry out, as pleasure sparks through his veins. Kenma whimpers, Tetsurou's name caught between lips, body trembling. Tetsurou can't help but thrust his hips upwards, undulating beneath Kenma to meet his rhythm.

His mind grows hazy, as the sensations overwhelm him. He holds Kenma's hand tightly, allowing Kenma to use it to balance himself.

"K-Kuro," Kenma whines after a moment, and Tetsurou can hear the request in his tone.

It's good, but not enough. It's not what Kenma wants.

"What do you want?" he asks breathlessly, blinking to try and clear his vision, as he stares up at Kenma.

Kenma frowns faintly, opening his eyes to look down at him. Tetsurou grins faintly, knowing exactly what Kenma wants but wanting him to say it.

Kenma mutters something, and Tetsurou smirks. "What was that?"

Kenma glares, his cheeks flushed, as he lifts his chin.

"Fuck me," he says, clear as a bell despite the roughness in his voice. " _Now_."

"As you wish," Tetsurou says, and with a soft grunt, he flips them over.

The instant Kenma's back hits the futon, Tetsurou begins to thrust, hard and fast. Kenma cries out, his hands flying to Tetsurou's back. Again, his nails dig into his skin, clawing, scratching, but Tetsurou ignores the sting. Bracing one hand against the futon, the other holding Kenma's thigh, he rams into him, over and over.

"Kuro! Ah, nng, _Kuro_!"

"Fuck, Kenma, fuck, _fuck._ "

The futon creaks in rhythm to Tetsurou's thrusts, the slap of skin on skin muffled only by his grunts and Kenma's whimpers and cries. He moves his hand from Kenma's thigh to wrap around his length. He smears the pre-cum over his palm, before grabbing the shaft firmly to stroke.

"Ah! _Ah! Kuro!_ "

"Say my name," Tetsurou grounds out from behind clenched teeth. It's the only request he ever makes of his prince. His name in Kenma's mouth.

"Kuro . . ."

Tetsurou pauses, though he trembles, aching with the burning desire to finish. He's throbbing, so close to his climax he can practically taste it. But he stops, his hand trembling around Kenma's length, as he looks down at his prince, panting hard.

"Say my name," he says again.

Kenma squirms, whining softly. His nails dig into Tetsurou's back, leaving angry red welts in their wake, but Tetsurou doesn't budge. He wants to hear it. He _needs_ to hear it.

Kenma stops wiggling. He turns his face to look up at Tetsurou, and when their eyes meet, he feels a charge of something like lightning tingle down his spine. Kenma's gaze is surprisingly clear, despite his damp, parted lips; despite the flush covering his pale face.

"Tetsurou," he says then, his voice barely above a whisper. " _My_ Tetsurou."

Tetsurou nearly comes right then. His knees weaken, but he keeps himself upright, slowly starting to move his hips once more. He bends down, kissing Kenma firmly, before setting his forehead against his. They breathe each other's air, damp and sticky, but neither of them cares. Tetsurou works his way up to his previous rhythm, shoving hard into Kenma, again and again.

It's only a minute or so longer before he stiffens, his body trembling. He can feel Kenma responding the same beneath him, and they cry out in unison, as they fall over the edge together. Tetsurou tries to keep up his thrusts, but his hips falter. Kenma's seed splashes against their chests, as he quivers with a low moan.

Carefully, Tetsurou pulls out, collapsing on the futon beside him. His legs twitch with aftershocks, his heart pounding loudly in his head. For a moment neither of them moves, though Kenma's hand seeks out Tetsurou's. He grips it tightly, and they listen to each other struggle to catch their breath.

Finally, Kenma sits up. His features wince, and Tetsurou feels a twinge of guilt. But then he feels the sting of his own wounds. Looking down, he finds himself covered in bite marks and scratches. A rough laugh escapes his throat.

"You don't think you went a little overboard with the marking?" he asks.

Kenma looks down at him briefly before turning his gaze away. "No," he admits. He grabs the sheet, wiping off his stomach before tossing it aside. He takes his yukata then, pulling it back on over his shoulders. He doesn't tie it off, however, and one side slips down over his shoulder. He reaches for the candle by the futon, lighting it, before picking up a small cigarette. He holds the tip over the flame until it catches, bringing it to his lips then.

The smoke is dark red, the herb used in the roll specifically designed to calm the user. Tetsurou's never tried it, but he sees Kenma use it often. He wonders if the duties of being the crown prince weigh that heavily on Kenma's shoulders. He never talks to him about it. Tetsurou sometimes wonders if he ever talks to anyone.

He slips off the bed, grabbing his own yukata from the floor and pulling it on. His legs still feel wobbly, so he sinks back onto the futon, leaving his clothes open as well. Leaning forward, he presses his lips against the back of Kenma's shoulder. Kenma turns his head toward him, but that's the only acknowledgment he gives.

"You know," Tetsurou says softly. "If you ever need someone to just . . . listen . . . I'm here for you. I don't mind just being your bedmate, but I can be your friend too. If you want me to be."

Kenma takes a drag off his cigarette, exhaling the smoke slowly. He doesn't respond, but he does lean back against Tetsurou's chest. Hesitantly, he wraps his arm around Kenma's waist, nuzzling his face gently into the back of his head.

"I'm yours, completely," Tetsurou murmurs.

Kenma rests his free hand against Tetsurou's arm, holding it lightly. It's the most intimate they've ever been, post-coital. Normally, Tetsurou simply leaves or they'll dress and go to sleep. This feels different. The energy between them is different.

And Tetsurou can't help but hope that that energy will grow and become something new altogether. That his prince will learn to trust him with his thoughts, his fears . . .

his heart.

"Stay with me tonight," Kenma murmurs softly, relaxing further against him. He pulls Tetsurou's arm closer around him, shifting to turn his body into Tetsurou's. He seems exhausted; limbs limp in Tetsurou's embrace. The hand that holds the cigarette starts to fall, and Tetsurou catches it before it can touch the sheets. He reaches over to snuff it out in the small ash tray by the candle, setting it down before turning back to hold Kenma.

Kenma reaches up, his movement sluggish, and he traces one of the bite marks on Tetsurou's chest.

"My Tetsurou," he murmurs softly. "Mine."

Tetsurou nods, burying his face in Kenma's hair and closing his eyes. "Completely," he says again. "For as long as you want me."

Kenma hums softly in satisfaction. He drifts off to sleep, and Tetsurou carefully lays him down on the futon beside him. Before he turns to blow out the candle, he catches a glimpse of the contented smile on Kenma's face.

**Author's Note:**

> and this is the piece of art that inspired this fic: [[king and lionheart]](http://eicinic.tumblr.com/post/130764744570/king-and-lionheart)
> 
> I can never resist Gin's art.
> 
> http://shions-heart.tumblr.com/


End file.
